


HYSSOP.

by Kitchensnakes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a sad ending, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Cats, Character Death, Depression, Gen, Good Slytherins, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kinda, Manipulative Harry Potter, Mental Health Issues, Mentor Minerva McGonagall, Multi, Other, Sad, Sad Ending, Sassy Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Two Endings, cold harry potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitchensnakes/pseuds/Kitchensnakes
Summary: Harry knew he had little control over his life. He has always known that. He wasn't allowed to disagree, but, deep down he found the life he currently had as, boring. Not only that, painful.A cat walks in, promising to change all that. Said cat brings him into a world he was all too eager to join in the fray. Finding his way in this new world offers many new possibilities he was once limited to.He adjustes, and  will be trying to fit right in best he can. With a lovely cat by his side.TWs: check tagsDISCLAIMER: I will most likely not be talking much to you as readers throughout the story but I wanted to start this off with a dandy note! This story is for pure fun, it's a mix of some of my favourite tropes that being said, remember, I'm no professional writer and  this is for my own enjoyment.While criticism in some cases is welcomed, this isn't that time. If you like the story, spectacular! Please stick around, if you don't? Then I'd find another story. Or keep bits you dislike to yourself. Most the time I'm open to critique, but alas this isn't the time. I'm also quite the beginner writing when it comes to Harry Potter as a fandom so please be patient with me as I figure it out.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Minerva McGonagall & Harry Potter, Uncertain romance wise
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. KITTY

TW(for this chapter): abuse  
————

Harry sat in his cupboard silently, letting the sound of skirring rats chewing against the thin walls of the Dursley's home filled his ears. Staring into the darkness, he doubted much, stared back or spared him a glance. But, that was fine he supposed. Harry wasn’t sure, well, he wasn’t sure of a lot of things. He filled with his hands methodically, his head perking up to hear those who walked and chartered outside of his confined space. 

He recognized Petunia’s voice anywhere, though he couldn’t make out the words. As he heard Dudley cry Harry could only assume it was her effort to comfort the boy. That was nice, Petunia had the habit of doing things she wasn’t asked to do, only out of the kindest of her heart, or that’s what she assured. Harry couldn’t help but be sceptical, but he supposed he better trust her word anyway. The Dursley family was never wrong, and he was, always. But he couldn’t help but have to bite his tongue every time the saying was shoved down his throat. Though fully uncertain of what he’d actually say.

Harry hummed lightly to pass the time, it was a song he heard Uncle Vernon play once or twice — uncertain at the actual name himself, but Harry was still fond of it. It comforted him in a strange way. Perhaps someday he could learn the lyrics, in their entirety. With that, he quieted his hums with the sound of Dudley’s fake cries fading along with the melody. Harry shut his eyes and drifted off, to a surprisingly dreamless sleep. For that, Harry was thankful. 

———

Shoved out the door of the back of the family car, new, from some money Vernon acquired, of course, did not disclose the source of to the curious 9-year-old “freak” that lived in his home. Harry gazed at the entrance of the schoolhouse, he felt the oversized hand me downs hang loosely on his much too small build. He stood in a stance that somewhat shield his body, the sun gleaming down on his black hair, parts of his fringe a grey tint, caused by fading of cheap dye Aunt Petunia tried to plaster onto the white strands. 

Harry’s eyes glimmered as he shuffled forward towards the school, given no instruction what to really do. Looking back he was startled and shoved by Dudley. Losing his balance quickly he looked on as Dudley ran into the school, then looking back towards the car he was met with the embarrassed and angry gaze of both his aunt and uncle. They weren’t pleased, Harry took the hint and tried to make his way inside the school.

———

The school day was ordinary, or what Harry would assume was ordinary. He wasn’t very sure why he was sent there. The Dursleys had not sent him to school when younger, he learned most things during his earlier childhood by reading books Dudley took home with him. Or sneaking peeks at bits and pieces of the books the Dursleys owned in Vernon’s office. 

During most affairs during the school day, Harry found himself alone, not that he especially minded, he was used to it. But he couldn’t miss the sneers and whispers he got, it overwhelmed him. He found it much better to sit in the back of the class, you were less noticed. Much more of a shadow than a person in other’s eyes, which Harry found could be important at times and decided to stick with it. 

Recess was just as lonely. He found himself early on trying to approach Dudley’s group of friends, where he once more learned sticking to the shadows could serve him better than being in the open. Shadows he went. 

Sitting on the edge of the schoolyard he wrapped his arms around his midsection, curiously, looking at the cars that passed by. Then startled by the soft meow he heard at his side, it sounded strange, more like a person mimicking a cat than anything. Not that the young Harry minded or noticed. The cat sat next to him, the cat’s green eyes shined at him, not too far off from his own, much less vibrant ones. 

Harry gave a shaky smile and gazed at the cat, arms still tightly around himself. He reached out lightly to touch it on the head. The cat seemed hesitant itself, but allowed the gesture. Harry’s smile grew, but it seemed out of practice. “ Oh, hello,” He said softly, lightly petting the cat on its head, bandages coating his fingers. The cat’s tail waved in response, “ Who, um, are you, Mr Kitty?” Harry asked, tone dripped in curiosity, but slightly blank in emotion. The cat turned its head, almost as if it was mimicking a human covering a laugh it brought a paw to its grey face.

The cat let its tail hit harshly against the fence making a rattling noise. Harry jumped — gazing at the place the cat’s tail had swung. “ Ms Kitty?...” Harry asked quietly, the cat looked away again but then gave a soft meow in return. Harry took that as reinsurance and gave a soft sigh, “ ah, alright, sorry,” He hummed, nodding thoughtfully, taking mental note of the response. “ What are you doing here — what do you need?” Harry asked, a slight stumble over his words as he spoke.

The cat, or, Ms Kitty gave no response. Softly rubbing her head against Harry’s arm, Harry didn’t say much more after that. He wasn’t used to talking, let alone to cats. He wasn’t sure what was, courteous to cats anyhow, he would never want to offend someone — er thing? Were, cats “things”? He supposed so, but that might be offensive. Anyway, being silent was better than being offending, Harry decided. The cat seemed please with that, she sat silently as well next to Harry in the shade of the playground. Listening to the rushing sound of tires that went by the schoolhouse till the end of their recess.

———

Harry stared at his hands as he sat in the backseat of the car, Duddley babbled on to his all too eager parents of the tales of school. Harry scratched at the new bandage which had found its way onto his sickly face with his wide doll-like eyes. 

For a moment, there was silence in the car, as Dudley kicked his feet on the back of his mother’s chair within the car. Softly, Harry decided he wanted to speak, “ Uhm, Aunt Petunia? “ He started softly, “ What is it boy?” Was the response he received, he shrank down but gained what little courage the boy held left and spoke more, “ Today I, I met a friend, “ he ignored the overdramatic bark of laughter from his cousin, “ her name is, her name is Ms Kitty. She's a very nice cat, “ Harry managed to get out. His voice was quite hoarse and weak, he stumbled over words but tried to make it as clear as possible, in hopes he wouldn’t be yelled at.

“ Don’t tell me you took the damn thing home did you!” Petunia had accused, voice harsh as always as Vernon mumbled under his breath about the freakish, useless, boy who talks to cats in his free time. “ Ah - no, no I didn’t, ma’am, “ Harry rushed to assure, “ You probably have some disease now! Damn you boy, if you get that sickness on my sweet Dudders I swear you’ll pay. It probably bit you didn’t it? “ She carried on, not allowing Harry to speak, which his voice was barely audible anyway.

The car turned into the driveway and Harry was promptly told to get out, as much as he wanted to, he gave no remarks or argued further. He knew it wouldn’t do him much good as it would hurt him. The small boy stood in a cower, as he heard his uncle get out from the vehicle with a ‘thump’, grabbing Harry by the sleeve and dragging him inside, Petunia talking with Dudley about what the boy had wanted for the closely coming Christmas in a few months from then. The spoiled boy rattling off the list upon lists of items he wished to receive, and most likely would get, for the holiday.

Harry, on the other hand, felt doused with freezing water, it chilled him to the bone but he bit his lip. He could hear the words said to him by his uncle, as he was grabbed by the arms tightly, but his brain refused to comprehend them. Prioritising on not physically feeling anything, best he could. 

The feelings didn't all escape him yet, as he still shivered as the water hit him, and he still gasped and flinched at every slash and hit he had received. It hurt, but eventually, Harry supposed he got used to the feeling.

———

Harry dragged a hand through his mostly black hair, shaking his head slightly, hair matted, as he sat in the backyard of the home. He shook and felt himself grow tired with the pace that the sun quickly went down over the way. His eyes shuttered as he tried to keep himself awake, uncertain if his tiredness was the spawn of pain or lack of sleep. But through his fogged vision and ever closer closing lids, he saw the cat within his gaze. Coming in and out of view he slowly stretched out a hand from his balled up form.

The cat rubbed her head against his palm, Harry gave a small smile under his knees which he kept close to his face protectively. The cat sat against him, giving his shivering form a small bit of warmth from her own small form. Harry closed his eyes at last and fell asleep without a sound, dreamless as it seemed to be more and more often.


	2. BOOK.

TW . . . Abuse, more to be added need be.  
\---  
“ We have to get that boy out of there, that house is less than suitable for a child much less a young wizard,” McGonagall insisted, her tone stern as she spoke with Dumbledore, normally one to keep a more level head she realised the seriousness of the situation at hand. Dumbledore sat in silence, the office cold and no noise was heard but that of the occasional passersby.

Dumbledore appeared to be lost in thought, McGonagall held strong waiting for her response with a tight worried look. “ I understand your concern Minerva, really, however there is nothing to be done. The Dursley's home is the safest place for Young Potter as it stands, “ McGonagall looked at the man in disbelief, “ Their home will get him used to the troubles of the world, which is preferable in this stance. Life will never once be easy for the young boy I assure, he’ll be prepared to be the boy-who-lived, “ Dumbledore hummed, cocky as ever his voice seemed to read.

“ Do you hear yourself speak Albus? Because what you’re saying frankly makes zero to no sense. That boy is being beaten before your very eyes and you choose to do nothing about it? Dare I say, I didn’t take you for a coward, with, all do respect, “ McGonagall snapped harshly, worry in her tone matched with an equal amount of venom. Dumbldore peered at the professor harshly, “ Now, let’s not say something we’ll regret Minerva. You know as well as I, I would only do the best for the boy, he will save us.”

McGonagall faltered somewhat at his words, “ Do you only care about the prophecy? You seem to forget Harry is still a living young boy, not some pawn for the wizarding world. He needs help. And even more an actual parental figure, do you wish for another Tom Riddle, “ McGonagall continued on, watching Dumbledore’s face with every word.

“ I know what I am doing. You have no need to question me, “ His reply seemed to be somewhat dripped in irritation and impatience, however delivery was calm and poised as it normally was. McGonagall glared at the man, a firm frown on her face. “ Doesn’t he have anyone else to stay with? Merlin why not just Hogwarts itself, hm? I’m certain many powerful wizards that work in this school would jump at the chance of taking care of the boy-who-lived, did you even think of us as options, Albus?” Dumbledore sighed after McGonagall’s ramble, finding himself silent.

“ I assure you I did, but that’s exactly where Tom Riddle would expect the boy, the wards of the school are not enough to fight him and if he brings enough Death Eaters along. Harry is far too inexperienced to fight Riddle if he ever happened to have to encounter him at this time before any magical training. “ Dumbledore reasoned, “ Harry will only be here in what, two more years? He’s been in that “home”, if you wished to call it that, for nine years alrealdy it’s about time the boy is given help. Albus the world is cold and cruel as we both well enough know, but we can help where we can. As a light lord you should know this, Harry is nine right now, nine, the boy has suffered enough to make up many of the older wizards who walk our world. He needs time in a normal home, to be able to live a good life before he has to give it all away for a prophecy. Merlin just listen to me for a moment, Albus!” 

Dumbledore was silent, he looked at his desk for a few moments before shaking his head. “ Minvera, let's finish another time, shall we? “ Dumbledore looked up at McGonagall, eyes glimmering with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. She stayed silent a moment more before standing up to take her leave, “ I suppose we shall, Albus, “ She glared at Dumbledore, then nodding her head once. Walking out the door which she had walked in only an hour or two before, shoes making a soft click as she pranced away in her elegant and poised manner.

———

Harry sorted the books along the walls of Uncle Vernon’s empty office, alphabetical this time. Taking glances inside the ones that seemed to pique his interest, careful to avoid the gaze of his aunt. He’d be truthful he didn’t fully understand all of the contents of the books — and he’d never pretend to. However they still interested him, as well as learning new words, he wished he could use the fancy words he liked in the stories more often, but he was scared his aunt and uncle would find it was him just trying to seem smarter than them. Which was far from the truth. No, Harry was sure they were much smarter than he was, Dudley included. 

Harry sighed and kept on doting on the books, parts of him aching and begging him to lay down. But he knew that would only make the pain worse, after he was most likely caught. Nothing much he could do about that. Sleep could wait, that is if the end he ended up deserving it. That wasn’t his decision to make either. He could stay silent however, keep to himself, do what he was told, then he’d have his answer.

———

The cat visited him again that night, as he ended up sleeping outside again. Not that he minded, he had the company of a friend, that’s all he needed. Ms Kitty curled up next to him, bringing him a small bit of warmth as she had done before. He drifted off to sleep and was disappointed to find the cat not beside him as she was when he closed his eyes. But, as much as he could wish for things. He had no control over anything, he knew that well enough, everything was in ownership of someone else, and he had to live with that.

However, curiously, Ms Kitty did return. A bag in her mouth as she wondered towards the boy, still undisturbed by his relatives. Who Harry assumed had gone to church or something of the sort, and left the boy without instruction for the morning. Days like these were uncommon, but all still enjoyable. 

The bag between her teeth seemed to be dragging behind her, older Harry would most certainly question how the small cat managed to get the bag that far without interference, but younger Harry saw no mystery behind it and took it how it is. Ms Kitty as Harry still lovingly called her gestured the bag towards Harry, he lightly grasped the bag pulling it towards himself. Curious, Harry opened the bag after a beat, which he had spent looking questioningly at Ms Kitty.

Inside the bag was a book, it was black and made of thick leather. No writing or special detailing on the cover — or back, softly, Harry opened the book finding the parchment inside rough and dry yet somewhat soothing, familiar in its own strange way. Flipping a few pages he took in the sight of the words. Carefully, on the first page he started to read, he was met with new phrases he had never seen before and concepts he’d never heard of. He was so focused on understanding what the book itself he had, almost, completely forgotten it was a cat which had given it to him.

The words spoke of witchcraft which the Dursleys had told him was against The Lord, however, they never told Harry much about who ’The Lord’ was, Harry took it as a very important person — from what he HAD heard of course. On the other hand, Uncle Vernon had also made it very clear magic was not normal, but most who preach they can do it are lying, and therefore should be locked up because they certainly aren't normal. Uncle Vernon never made much sense, but Harry knew better than to question the man.

As much on that basis of prior knowledge, you’d quite easily assume Harry would put the book down and denounce it as nothing but fiction. Harry almost did just that, however, something about the book seemed to not let him put it down — it pulled Harry to it. He seemed infatuated with it and kept reading. 

The book told tales of wizards and witches, light lords and dark lords, the many important lineages within the wizarding world. Later, Harry would recognize this as a beginner book on the history of some of the wizarding world. Currently? As much as it seems just like fairy tales and bedtime stories he’d hear Aunt Petunia tell Dudley every night, it felt real to him. 

Harry doesn't remember how long he read for, and he doesn't remember Ms Kitty going on her very way. He feels as though it must have been a while, and, well, when the Dursleys found he had not done morning chores (that they had not assigned him), Uncle Vernon promptly took the opportunity to throw the book away, much to Harry’s distress.

But that night when he climbed into his little place underneath the stairs, the light overhead still out as ever, body aching from bruising and injuries, there the book sat. Harry felt happy for a brief second, he read it all that night and hid it away from the Dursleys’ dirty paws in the morning.


End file.
